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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26186536">Seven Poems for Tellius Week 2020</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeHousman/pseuds/SeHousman'>SeHousman</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Other, Poems, Poetry, telliusweek, telliusweek2020</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 05:34:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,172</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26186536</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeHousman/pseuds/SeHousman</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>These are the seven fan-poems I wrote for Tellius Week 2020 (Aug 23rd-29th)</p><p>Day 1: Simmer <br/>Themes: Children, Community, Cooking<br/>POV: Elena</p><p>Day 2: Regicide<br/>Themes: Bloodlines, Becomings, Beasts<br/>POV: Almedha</p><p>Day 3: His Mother<br/>Themes: Forgiveness, Fear, Force<br/>POV: Oscar</p><p>Day 4: Devotion<br/>Themes: Death, Dedication, Dazzling<br/>POV: n/a (focus on Sephiran and Zelgius)</p><p>Day 5: In the Caves<br/>Themes: Escape, Enlighten, Echoes<br/>POV: Tibarn</p><p>Day 6: Poison<br/>Themes: Hope, History, Heroes<br/>POV: Misaha</p><p>Day 7: I Don't Recognize My Home<br/>Themes: Adversity, Alternate Universe, Adventures <br/>POV: Fiona</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Simmer</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Brewing soup with my two wonders.</p><p>Break the kindling, set the logs.</p><p>                                     (Such small hands, my daughter’s are.</p><p>                                     She hefts one,</p><p>                                                           or at least tries.)</p><p>Stoke the fire, set the pot.</p><p>                                     (Once I convince my son it’s not</p><p>                                     a helmet,</p><p>                                                   that is.)</p><p>Watch the hearth, keep it hot.</p><p> </p><p>The boy, old enough now,</p><p>                      I allow</p><p>                      a dull blade.</p><p>He splits spuds and root vegetables.</p><p>The girl, too young, requests shapes</p><p>                      he admirably attempts</p><p>                      to recreate.</p><p>                                     (I slice and sizzle the meat,</p><p>                                     eyeing their antics, and</p><p>                                     committing them</p><p>                                                                to memory.)</p><p>We strip herbs from their stems,</p><p>effusing the room with their scent.</p><p>                                               </p><p>Stirring the broth together, I know</p><p>                      I’ll remember this small moment</p><p>                                                                        forever.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Regicide</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>This land is not my home,</p><p>These people not my own.</p><p>I came to discover</p><p>                                Substance.</p><p>Like blood but thicker.</p><p> </p><p>But here I have found,</p><p>A wet blade, wet palms, a wet pool</p><p>                                Growing wider.</p><p>A famine in his eyes.</p><p>Like lust but sicker.</p><p> </p><p>I see you, insatiable prince,</p><p>                                King-slaying son,</p><p>Whelp of want and struggle.</p><p>Hard and hale on king’s blood.</p><p>Like a god’s but slicker.</p><p> </p><p>I step from the shadows.</p><p>You betray not a shred of fear,</p><p>                                Nor surprise,</p><p>Of me nor being seen.</p><p>I take the wet blade. </p><p> </p><p>Let us not linger.</p><p>Retreat somewhere dark,</p><p>and count the fallen stars,</p><p>                                Lost lives like sparks.</p><p>I will bear what I have come for.</p><p> </p><p>When the blaze burns out,</p><p>What survives the ash,</p><p>                               Of fathers and kings,</p><p>Will be the blood of our blood.</p><p>Like us but stronger.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. His Mother</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A flash.                  A glance.</p><p>                              A face in the gloom.</p><p>A door ajar.            Jarring.</p><p> </p><p>Peeking eyes          recognize mine.</p><p> </p><p>Tight pull               reins.</p><p>Horse hot               pull stop.</p><p>Frothing bit          </p><p>                              no time for this.                  </p><p> </p><p>I turn my neck.</p><p>I yank the lead.    </p><p>                              She’s in the street</p><p>                                                           now.</p><p>                              Bare feet               now.</p><p> </p><p>I slow.                    I stop.</p><p> </p><p>Withers twitching.</p><p>Time is ticking.</p><p> </p><p>Hoofbeats fade.</p><p>Except for three.</p><p> </p><p>Brothers,                go back.</p><p>Do not come          closer.</p><p>Don’t return        </p><p>                              to her.</p><p> </p><p>Little brother,        don’t ask</p><p>                             whose mirror eyes</p><p>are barefoot          apologizing.</p><p> </p><p>A battle rages ahead.</p><p> </p><p>Flashes.                Glances.</p><p>                            Faces in the gloom.</p><p>Arms on armor.    Alarming.</p><p> </p><p>I brought him here.</p><p> </p><p>I taught him this.</p><p>Night fire              ambush.                </p><p>                                                          Bloodshed.</p><p> </p><p>Forgive me this unforgivable upbringing.</p><p>And I’ll forgive you</p><p>                            for leaving.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Devotion</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>O’ Angel,                            </p><p>Veteran of the ancient war,</p><p>Cursed survivor,</p><p>Yearning for release.</p><p> </p><p>O’ General,        </p><p>Disciple of the Rider,</p><p>Dogged mongrel,            </p><p>Baptized in black steel. </p><p> </p><p>One soul calls out</p><p>                         for another.</p><p> </p><p>O’ Fallen Angel,</p><p>Have you a death wish?</p><p> </p><p>O’ Perfect General,</p><p>Will you condone this? </p><p> </p><p>Your goddess sleeps</p><p>                         so soundly.</p><p> </p><p>But you wake her together.</p><p> </p><p>Dawn rises on a silent world.</p><p>She shines on stone skin,</p><p>cold and stiff as corpses.</p><p> </p><p>O’ Victors,</p><p>Retreat to the blinding tower,</p><p>To await the true end.</p><p> </p><p>O’ Lonely Man,</p><p>Was he not enough?</p><p>Was he not reason</p><p>                         to try again?</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. In the Caves</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I can live without stars</p><p>                                a few nights.</p><p>                                                I’ll get by.</p><p>I can live without water</p><p>                                when the flask</p><p>                                                runs dry.</p><p>I can live with no moon</p><p>                                when the torches</p><p>                                                are gone.</p><p>I can live with no food</p><p>                                as the days</p><p>                                                stretch on.</p><p> </p><p>Through thin fissures</p><p>                               we’ll crawl.</p><p>Down pyrite tunnels</p><p>                               we’ll climb.        </p><p>Across vast caverns</p><p>                               we’ll fly.</p><p>From calcite towers. </p><p>                               we’ll fall.</p><p>               </p><p>I’ll catch you.                     </p><p>                I’ll carry you.</p><p>Sharp shale.                       </p><p>                Stale air.</p><p> </p><p>I promise you.</p><p> </p><p>We’ll get out of here alive.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Poison</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A quiet cathedral this evening.</p><p>I stalk the halls, and</p><p>my heart sings, voiceless,</p><p>             in accordance with</p><p>             the hiss of my skirts.</p><p>In this polished floor I see</p><p>             still waters starving</p><p>             to lap upon a distant shore.</p><p>In this dark garden I see</p><p>             a stagnant pool anxious to</p><p>             spill past its stone confines.</p><p>In this orb of torchlight I see</p><p>                                      ripples</p><p>                                      starting.</p><p>My fingers play against the flame’s halo.</p><p> </p><p>My nation is at the brink</p><p>             of a flood</p><p>             of truth</p><p>             no one knows.</p><p>But soon I will reveal everything.</p><p> </p><p>I walk, and these royal halls start to</p><p>                                      seethe and</p><p>                                      splash.</p><p>Few steps.</p><p>Fewer voices.</p><p>A rare few familiar faces.</p><p>                                      They swim.</p><p>                                      I succumb.</p><p> </p><p>(Bitter wine from a trusted servant before this.)</p><p>(Sixty years devoted life and service.)</p><p> </p><p>Dignity slips away like silk.</p><p>             I soil the robes of my office.</p><p>I grasp the sacred walls, but</p><p>             my palms prickle numb.</p><p>Wobbling, I stumble.</p><p>Drooling, I mumble.</p><p>I shamble to my chambers,</p><p>                                      shivering.</p><p>I beseech aid,</p><p>             but see</p><p>             no one.</p><p> </p><p>Finally, I arrive after</p><p>             many lurching detours.</p><p>I find on my floor</p><p>             the corpse of a bird.</p><p>Young man,                       </p><p>             distant brother.</p><p>Wings half-bald,</p><p>             shedding feathers.</p><p>Ankles shackled,              </p><p>             jaw bone shattered.</p><p> </p><p>In his eyes I see death staring.</p><p>Spilt cup,</p><p>             poison glaring.</p><p>Wet rug,              </p><p>             blood stain.</p><p>Set up,                 </p><p>             both of us. </p><p>               </p><p>Agony drowns me</p><p>                         in waves of blood,</p><p>                         snot, tears, and vomit.</p><p>Stabbing surges in my stomach</p><p>                                      mirror the murder</p><p>                                      minutes before.</p><p>My spastic fingers play against</p><p>                         knife hilt and</p><p>                         cup handle.</p><p>The artifices of my fate.</p><p> </p><p>I fall beside my false assassin.</p><p>I sink far under the floor,</p><p>                                      drowning.</p><p>Silence swamps my ears.</p><p>Inky depths blot my eyes, but</p><p>                         I grasp</p><p>                         the corpse of the bird.</p><p>I do not go alone</p><p>                         into the flood.</p><p>In the wavering orbs of his glassy eyes,</p><p>                         I know</p><p>                         ripples will grow,</p><p>                         regardless of me. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. I Don’t Recognize My Home</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In the farthest north, you’ll find</p><p>                                          an expanse of grass.</p><p>She isolates us, stretching</p><p>                   from the icy coast to the scattered,</p><p>                                                          jagged mountains,</p><p>                   like giant’s teeth,</p><p>                                     clenched tight.</p><p>She’s spotted with old stones, and</p><p>         swathed with sea mist, blown</p><p>                       by the long eastward breath.</p><p>                                                        she exhales.</p><p>She is my home, and</p><p>          mine is the people</p><p>                            who race cirrus waves.</p><p> </p><p>Stout horses, with</p><p>         steel hooves</p><p>         thrum like thunder in our lungs.</p><p>Strong barding, and</p><p>           full armor</p><p>           builds yieldless momentum.</p><p>A swift pace, yet</p><p>            peerless patience</p><p>            affords no weakness.</p><p> </p><p>We are born warriors,</p><p>                                 the stories say.</p><p>Independent we remain.</p><p>Respected, we maintain,</p><p>                       generations of peace.</p><p>But then came the day my father died,</p><p>                                         leaving only me.</p><p>Then came the day southern forces arrived.</p><p> </p><p>We knew they were coming, but</p><p>                                            I did nothing, and</p><p>                                            hoped it wise.</p><p>Perhaps history will be</p><p>                         my judge.</p><p> </p><p>When a stranger draws a bow at you,</p><p>                                              at your people,</p><p>                                              in your home,</p><p>                          do you flee, fight, or hide?</p><p> </p><p>Do you duck?</p><p>            Stand stock still?</p><p>            Make yourself small and warn them all</p><p>                                                           to merely abide?</p><p>Do you seize the nearest shield?</p><p>            Wield the nearest weapon?</p><p>Do you shriek and charge without a moment’s thought</p><p>            to catch the bowman, and</p><p>                                              yourself off guard?</p><p>How can you make these decisions,</p><p>                     if you’ve never decided before?</p><p> </p><p>I wondered these things upon notice of their approach,</p><p>                                               the moment of their arrival,</p><p>                                               and every second since.</p><p> </p><p>When does a threat turn into attack?</p><p>Is it when you scare</p><p>                      the bowman back?</p><p>How do you know</p><p>             you won’t be killed, if</p><p>             you don’t wait</p><p>                             and see?</p><p>Will you have time to regret it, if</p><p>                                               you are bleeding out?</p><p>Will you have time to regret it, when</p><p>                                               you lie in bed, and</p><p>                                               hear the knock of</p><p>                                               the bowman on</p><p>                                               your neighbor’s door?</p><p>Or worse,</p><p>               no knock at all.</p><p> </p><p>Am I my people’s keeper?</p><p>Is there still time</p><p>                   to change my mind?</p>
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